r 



SeUsi anti 

isx from tfje me 





Class _S555i^ 



COPYI?IGHT DEPOSIT. 



^tll^ anb tt^otsi 



'And some seed fell by the wayside* 



Pells mh €ctoeg 

from tfje WHijite temple 
t)? Walttt JlentDell ?|ingon 




rX^'^ 



COPYRIGHT. 1913 
W. B. HINSON 



PHINTEO AND DESIGNED BY 

BROCKMANN BROTHERS 

PORTLAND. OREGON 



/ 



^ 



FEB 18 19W 

©CI,A374.592 



^ £S^ iS^ i^^ £i^ 



Contents! 



iS^ j3«? a^ s^ 



The Year i 

The Winding Road ... 2 

My Creed 3 

The Step Beyond 4 

The Old Home 5 

The Second Mile .... 6 

Heimweh 7 

Cleansing Fire 8 

"I Remember You' . ... 9 
Longsuffering Is Love. lO 

A Storn Song II 

Compensation 12 

Flotsam 13 

So Passes All 14 

The Rainboiv on the 

Trees 15 

Forsaken 1 6 

Machpelah 17 

The By^'gone Days. . . ., 18 
"A Song of the SouV\. 19 



Yesterday's Return . . . . 20 
''Might Have Been'. . . 21 

The Great Secret 22 

Wanderlust 23 

Abiding Love 24 

Fruition 25 

Now and Always 26 

Night Song 27 

Notwithstanding All .. 28 

The First Day 29 

"The Word Fitly 

Spoken" 30 

"I Serve" 31 

"Lo^ The Winter Is 

Past" 32 

Reveille 33 

"Where Neither Moth 

Nor Rust Doth 

Corrupt" 34 

In the Morning 35 



c;^ Se^ iSfi^ a^ 



Contents! 



S^ i^ i3^ j2^ 



CONTINUED 

r 



Constancy 3^ 

Semper Fidelis 37 

"A Well of Living 

Waters" 38 

When the Moon Is 

Low 39 

Love's Violets 40 

The Sentinel 41 

Sumjnum Bonum 42 

Twilight ...43 

The Rolling Year 44 

October 45 

Anchoring Love 46 

My Mother 47 

The Grass 48 

Gipsy ..49 

Decisions .50 

Mirage 51 

Love's Night .52 



Mine 53 

// Is Well 54 

Memories 55 

The Gains of Life 56 

Thy Presence 57 

The Eternal Light 58 

Pompilia 59 

Hooks of Steel 60 

Semper Idem .61 

True Giving 62 

Afterglow 63 

Resurgam .64 

The Wonder Land 65 

The Slave of Love 66 

Rachel 67 

For Aye .68 

At Sunset 69 

Eternity In the Heart. "jo 
Adios 71 



m X Jf oretoorb x m 



/mm^HESE little notes were 
il sung, and these echoes 
^■■^ heard, in the Church 
Bulletin of the White Tem- 
ple. A few friends have 
desired to possess them in 
more permanent form. 



Cije gear 



/ push my little boat out on this strange New Year; 
I have no chart, no compass, but I do not fear; 
For one dear hand will ever surely, safely steer 
My little boat. 

I tread the winding road of this unknown New Year; 
No echoing footfall e'er before has sounded here; 
But one dear form will evermore he near to cheer 
My winding road. 




Cfje OTinbing Boab 



3T WAS the picture of a little winding road leading 
— ah, who knows where — for the real picture hides 
more than it discloses, and suggests more than it 
reveals. 

Concerning it I thought it is like the Way of Life — the 
end is not in view. 

Ever does that road wind, and what the next turn may 
bring even the anticipating heart knoweth not. Only 
Faith, Hope, and Love are ever aware that the best is 
on the way towards us, and it and we must some day 
meet. 

Concerning that simple picture of the road, one who 
knows, wrote — "I think the best way is just to plod 
along thoughtfully, prayerfully, lovingly, the end may 
come in view sometime." 

Yes, that is the way to travel. 

Thoughtfully — using the ?nind; for man may not live 
by bread alone — and the sustaining reminiscences, antic- 
ipations, and certitudes are legion. And they cheer, and 
safeguard too. 

Prayerfully — keeping the souVs vision clear, for the 
greatest things and the best lie for us in the undeveloped 
purpose of Him who planned the whole, of which but the 
half is at present seen. 

Lovingly — for when the heart fails, the life is ended; 
and prayer has its nerve cut; and the mind becomes abject 
and poor. And love never faileth — whether as Chart, or 
Clue, or Prophecy, Love keeps faith ever! 

Winds the road drearily. Dear Heart, 

Love jnaketh all things new; 
Drags the foot wearily. Dear Heart, 

The end will come in view. 



Mv Creeb 



/ learned it where the morning mist was flying 

To its doom against the moisture-wrecking hill; 

The mist is of the moment, and is dying; 
The heart stays in one place still. 

I learned it where the shooting star was trailing 

Its golden gleam as if to heaven fill; 
The meteor evanescent is, and failing; 

The heart stays in one place still, 

I learned it where the foaming water races 
Away through the sluices of the mill; 

The water finds a home in many places; 
The heart stays in one place still, 

I learned it where the passing season s changes 
Touched hillside, landscape, and the rippling rill; 

Where'er the roving footfall halts, or ranges; 
The heart stays in one place still. 



Cije ^tep PQ>onb 



3 HEARD one say the other day, while speaking of a 
friend much loved and deeply missed, ''He went 
away." Like the perfume of sweet-briar clinging to 
one*s clothing on a city street, that little phrase has clung to 
me since, lightening many burdens, and lighting up some 
dark places on the pathway. 

''He went away!' That is all. For He still exists, 
the same wherever he may be; and his heart is ever un- 
changed, and for evermore constant as Eternity. Only the 
chasm of mere miles is between him and thee; and memory 
can bridge that chasm in one moment; and love can make 
it to be non-existent forever. True heart! herein is an 
Evangel of pure blessedness! Just "Away," that is all. 
In Canada; in the sunny South where the magnolia blooms; 
across the mountains ; over the seas, or above the moon; 
only, "Away." And present there is so much! So ?nuch 
to relieve, and illumine, and cheer, and uphold! Lost, no, 
nor ever can be; nor ever shall be; only for a few days — 
" Azvay." 

"He went away." That is all — and that is sad enough, 
if wrongly spoken! But when rightly understood by the 
soul, then solitude is populous, joy is permanent, dawn is 
at hand, and heaven is nigh. 



Cfje (BVb ^otnc 



Old home where the elm trees are growing, 

The home of my childhood days; 
Where the old-fashioned flowers are blowing, 

And the folks have simple ways; 
Where the little school crowning the hill-crest 

Looks down on the stream below. 
Whose water is dear as that David blest 

In Bethlehem — long ago. 

Old home where the lilacs are swaying 

To music of lily bells; 
With the light-hearted children still playing 

Old games in the grassy dells; 
Where the gray church still blesses the valley. 

With its thought provoking spire. 
And the saintly souls witness the rally 

Of God's chariots of fire. 

Old home with the porch, and the roses. 

And the honeysuckle sweet; 
Where the dented door ever discloses 

The marks of the children s feet; 
And the graveyard is nestling the hills between 

Where mother sleeps under the sod; 
While musing and dreaming of thee, I seem 

Nearest and likest to God. 



Cte ^econtr 0ik 







UR paths approximated and joined! ah me, not quite! 
But almost — so that I felt your breath on my cheek, 
and heard your heart beating. 

Then came the chill wind and the ?nenacing thunder; 
darker grew the sky and asunder we drifted. Yet ever- 
more I hoped that Satan s severance might be bridged 
by God's providence; that soinewhere, somehow, some- 
time, the divided streams from the one spring might mingle, 
and sing musically for evermore. That some warm South- 
ern wind ivould melt the ice, and wear away the blockad- 
ing snow ; and some stone escape from its long control, and 
smite down in its falling those barriers against which these 
lone streams of our lives had vainly fretted and chafed. 

But no South wind blew, and no smitten stone fell. 
Instead you went away. And now all is plain and clear. 
Blows noiu the South wind, softly ; and the smiting stone 
has fallen. For not, as do others, did we pledge — "Till 
death shall you part.'' For I to thee, and thou to me, 
didst say : "So long as we both shall live." And you live. 
Only the body died last night; in the light of the palpable 
eye of God your soul is alive. And now you are mine. 
Brought to me as Alcestis from Hades. And freedom has 
come to us. The streams long severed, unite under the 
white sunlight; and in the channel decreed from of old the 
waters are musically blending. And towards the great sea 
they flow, where all that ought to be, exists. So let the 
world go by; it has gone by. The keys of the heavenly 
mysteries we now press; and the resting place is found. 
God's smile shines, where the path goes winding forever; 
and every turn in the road brings new blessedness. O! 
men said, "Too late" ; but God said, "Now." Disappoint- 
tnent we thought it; His appointment it was. So ever 
abideth Faith in Him; and Hope because of Him; and 
Love, for He is Love. And the Greatest is Love. 



^etmtpet) 



A sloping hillside, and a rocky shore; 

O'erhead — as solemn sentinels — the sombre pines; 
Winds whispering of unborn sigh, or song, or roar. 

While on gray gloom the slanting sunlight shines; 
Earth strewn with spiced pine-needles, falling, falling; 

Air perfumed, aromatic, sweet, and slumbrous; 
Music of bee, of insects* hum, and wild bird calling. 

Blending with singing stream, and sea-psalm thundrous; 
A little home, half hid by vines — a heart home — 

At which long time I gazed, and ever longingly. 
While pine trees bade me never more to roam; 

Thus moaned the murmuring wind, so droned the bee, 
''No longer roam" seemed written on the sea-waves' foam; 

Sadly I turned aivay, still seeking thee. 



Cltansfing ;f ire 



1 



OW life is purified by Love! ''For her sake, No'* 
— has many a tempted boy said to the evil, as he 
thought of his mother. 
^^Now alt men beside are to me but shadows, 
Douglas, Douglas, tender, and true" 
To be pure in heart, and mind, in wish, and impulse, for 
the loved one's sake, is not this one of the clearest indica- 
tions of Love's presence; is not this the surest proof of 
Lovers existence'^ 

A potent preservative from wrong, from taint, and drift , 
and evil, is Love. 

They tell how the Sirens on their island home sang so 
sweetly that Ulysses, returning home from Troy, was 
warned to put wax in his sailors' ears, lest they refuse — 
seduced by the sweet strains — to onward go. But Ulysses 
caused himself — with unstopped ears — to be bound fast 
to the mast. And when the ravishing singing reached him, 
he — but for the restraining ropes — would have flung him- 
self into the sea to be cursed by the cruel-hearted singers. 

We are also told how Orpheus once neared the isle of 
the Sirens. But he discoursed from his lute such rare 
sweetness, that while his seamen heard the invitation from 
the tempting fair ones, the music of Orpheus was preferred 
by them. 

The Sirens still sing — but he who listens to Orpheus 
hears them not. 



3 Bemember ^ou ! 



/ remember you! 

I recall every glance and flash of your eye; 

And even the way that you used to walk; 
And the fair sweet surprise of your coming nigh; 

And I listen still to your old sweet talk; 
I have never forgotten a thing you said, 

Nor even a gesture that went with a word; 
Nor a wave of your hand, nor turn of your head; 

I recall all I saw, all I heard. 

I remember you! 

I remember you! 

And so often I listen to hear you speak, 

And am so certain and sure that you will; 
And then in surprise, I grow suddenly weak. 

That cometh no word from your lips so still; 
I would gladly miss aught of good in my life 

Could I but see you, and feel you a-near; 
For my heart is a-weary, and full of strife. 

Which you could so easily heal, my dear. 

I remember you! 



10 Hongsufferins ii ILobe 



'TfiT IS the capacity for suffering long which reveals and 
Jm glorifies Love. For all the caricatures of Love lack 
long-suffering. The peace of a sham affection is at 
best but an armed truce; and a look, a word, a memory, 
or a misplaced hat, may suffice to sound a new call to arms, 
and all the rude alarms of war. And then the Vesuvius 
of Discord, o'er which there ever hangs the threatening 
smoke, will again belch forth its fiery lava. So this sham 
love has ever to be on guard, for it can sustain no strain 
or test, in fact it cannot long maintain even its armed 
truce, but must by sheer necessity vent its foolishness in 
turmoil and spite. And so this nickel-plated iron, con- 
scious that it is insufficient for the rough usage of life, 
retires from an active service ever and anon, to veneer 
itself afresh; that it may keep up the sorry pretense, and 
disguise the ghastly mockery of its dry rot of palpable 
deceit. And when this foulness would borrow the fair- 
ness of Love, the angels' tears fall as in a driving rain, 
to the accompanying thunders of Christ's anathema. But 
Love — it makes no pretense; it uses no studied phrases; 
but is evermore long-suffering, because it knows the dawn 
must come, and the clouds must part, and the storm must 
subside; and so it has no fear, no resentment, no thought 
of alienation, but is sure of its final fruition, though the 
mountains shake, and the wild waves shriek out their 
trouble to the unresponsive rocks. 
^'Love suffereth long,** 



^ ^torm ^ons 



Just a little longer keep the prow toward shore; 
Just a little longer brave the tempests' roar; 
Just a few more tossings, and a few storms inore. 
Then the harbor! 

Just a little longer keep the old flag flying; 
Just a little longer hear the bugle crying; 
Just a little longer — wounded, maimed or dying; 
Fight, nor falter! 

Just a little longer tread the desert sand; 
Just a little longer heed the Guide's command; 
Just a little longer in the foemans land. 
Then comes Canaan! 

Will you let the ship drift — crazed by coward fearf 
Will you cease the battle, and the Dead March hearf 
Will you perish feebly in the desert drear f 
Not much, you wont! 

You will keep — / know you will — the prow toward shore, 
You ivill fight — / know you will — till fighting's o'er; 
You will march — / know you will — till exile is no more, 
I know you will! 



12 Compengation 




^HY has no one ever spoken of the unattaining, 
the non-possessing, the ungratified, the unsatis- 
fied lovef The love that wears the months away 
in hoping, yearning, seeking, and vain desire! 

Has aught of compensation ever been found in itf fVhen 
the years were years of patient waiting, waiting for a star 
that never emerged from the clouds; and when the soul 
was ever listening for the ringing cry, "The morning com- 
ethy but no dawn appeared. Surely this is the "Barren 
loss" of "The Rosary," the "Bitter gain' of which the song 
sings. 

Is itf No, a thousand times, NO! To be swept of 
Love's wings as they soar has its own reward. And in 
the fact of being loved, and of loving, lies glory in gloom; 
and pleasure in pain; as ivhen Knighthood was conferred 
by the stroke of the sword. For the longing to rise and 
fly is so much better than to satisfiedly crawl ; to hunger, 
as did the Prodigal, when food fit only for swine was near, 
was dignifying hunger; and then too, the eye for the upper 
air, and the aspiration to fly therein, guarantees and — in 
the Eternal purpose — necessitates the wings. 

Pity not the people who walk the earth with a strong 
and pure — though unattained — love in their hearts. They 
evermore see flowers, and fountains, and high delights, 
in even the desert places. They are kept unsullied amid 
the inanities and impoverishments of the world, by a love 
which ever sings in the dark as doth the nightingale; and 
yet in that same song is there the ringing cheer of the sky- 
scaling lark o'er the breezy downs. O people with the little 
ai?ns and ignoble purposes, satisfied with the show of things, 
and the s?nall delights, compassionate not those whose 
whole lives are unappeased yearnings for the holy and 
the high, but rather envy, emulate and imitate them, that 
so to thee also at last it inay come, to have Heaven's bread 
to eat in the Banqueting Hall of the King. 



jFIottam 13 



When I live over the dear sacred time^ 

E'er madly about us the wind and waves raved; 

I gaze on this water-stained driftwood of mine. 
Fruit of the wreckage — what treasure I saved! 

When ships deep-laden with treasure so rare. 
Go bearing their fortunes to anchorage calm; 

My driftwood grows dear beyond count or compare. 
Till the beach echoes my jubilant psalm. 

When thus I muse, all my losses seem gains; 

And I by the side of this severing sea, 
A balm ever find for my heartache and pains. 

In wave-washed driftwood re?ninding of thee. 

When I gloat over my prizes untold, 

I'm richer than owner of many starred sky; 

For if every star were a world of pure gold. 

Have them who will! My dear driftwood have I. 



14 ^0 ^asfsieg M 




PW gloriously God puts His Maples to sleep! 
Did ever such color madden the mind of a painter 
as is poured out on our hill sides and woods today? 
Billows of scarlet — waves of yellow — miles of glory — 
and all to be had for the looking at! 

Not on Utilitarian principles did God make the world. 
But He made it beautiful zvith a beauty beyond mans 
dream. He gave the wheat to keep us alive — but He 
gave the rose to feed our fancy — and even when He 
made the tree for the service of man, He made it luith 
such wonderful shapeliness — such beautiful suggestiveness 
of stately column and fretted roof — as makes it cathedral- 
like in grandeur. 

Its leaf also bears the print of His unrivaled pencil. 
And so all the forests are blazing in beauty today ; and 
the great floods of crystallized poetry and music coiier the 
land, while God^s low winds are softly playing on a mil- 
lion forest harps, and His fingers touching the tree tops 
till they blush into a transfiguration beauty. And a surging 
line of forest is fair today — surpassingly fair — and beams 
like a rainbow of the earth — telling of hopefulness, resur- 
rection, continued life, and God. 

I know where wild things lurk and linger 

In groves as grey and grand as Time; 
I know where God himself has written poems. 
Too grand for words of rhyine. 
We fade as a leaf. Thank God if in such glory as this 
we make our exodus. For the leaf fades gloriously — and 
in its fading it reveals God, and it will reappear in resur- 
rection vigor and fairness again next Spring. 



Cfje i^ainiotD on tfje Creeg is 



"Genesis'' moves in the opening Spring, 

The birth of the year! 
When the daffodils' beautiful bells are a-swing 

In the sunlight clear! 
And living things wake in the light of the day. 
And a Cos?nos breaks from the Chaos away. 
And God looks on all He has made, to say 

''All is good that is here!" 

"Apocalypse" shines in the Autumn gold. 

The declining year! 
When a glory eclipsing the Temple of old 

Is afar and near! 
And the pavements of gold, and the jasper walls. 
Are all to be seen where the foliage falls. 
And out of the splendor the great God calls 

"All is good that is here!" 

O Scriptures of God on the maple trees. 

In the bloom and the blaze! 
Unto us give the wit to decipher all these, 

God's outf lashing rays! 
The rare Gospel on maple, poplar, and beech. 
With a beauty and glory beyond man's reach, 
And under and over it all God's speech 

"All is good that is here" 



16 jForgafeen 




HE had companioned with him for long years. For 
her he had lived, for her he had sinned. Amid all his 
wanderings she with him kept step. But at Hebron 
she ceased to so walk. And Abraham said: ''I am a 
stranger and a sojourner with you; give me a burying 
place that I may bury my dead out of my sight/' 

Ah, the multitude who have gone to Hebron! Eve 
found it first with the body of Abel in her arms. She 
first visited Machpelah. Then the procession started, 
and O it has never stopped. Men of Heth, yours is the 
crowned land! Yours is the place where the heart aches, 
and the tear mist rises to blot out the stars. 

A stranger! "Pilgrims and strangers are we" is hu- 
manity's wail. ''I am a pilgrim and a stranger' is the 
cry of Man. 

Strange the world about me lies. 

Never yet familiar grown; 
Still disturbs me with surprise. 

Haunts me like a face half known; 
So between the starry dome, 

And the floor of plains and seas, 
I have never felt at home. 

Never wholly been at ease. 

Poor Abraham. Drearily falls the twilight. Moans 
the night wind sadly. And the stars are hid. Canaan is 
not; only Machpelah! 



jUacfjpelai) 17 



/ am thinking of you tonight. 

That is all — that is always all; 
At dawn, at mid-day, or midnight, 

No matter what-eer may befall; 
And ever I reach out for you 

My poor empty, and yearning hands; 
E'er longing, and loving you true. 

As before me your dear form stands: 
And one wish ascendeth above. 

That to me you can come some day. 
To evermore rest in my love. 

And we be unsundered for aye; 
So ever I hear your low call. 

And I answer as best as I may; 
But you know, ah, you know it all! 

For our hearts were attuned alway; 
O the fair lovelight of your eyes! 

O the touch of your finger tips! 
And your smile with love made ivise; 

And the clinging caress of your lips; 
Do you feelf You sure are aware 

Of this constant love of my soul, 
That is moving, and surging eer 

As the sea 'neath the moon's control; 
Of this passionate, longing pain. 

That makes me cry out in my need, 
Just to hold you, again, again; 

Hear, soul of my soul; hear, and heed. 



18 Cfje Ppgone Baps 



^^^HE dear dead days! Hast thou many of them, 
£1 Soulf Dead days, but ah, so dear! Are they gone, 
^^^ thinkest thou, as are bubbles of air when the water 
ministers evil? Are they lost as stones in the sea; or as 
butterflies released on mid ocean? Are they Lost Souls, 
those dear dead days? I tell thee, ''Nay." 

Not lost, are the dear days of early life. For golden 
is the saying — when rightly understood — ''Once a man, 
but twice a Child." As our Wisest once said: Entering 
the Kingdom of the Highest, we become as Children. 
And the old wistful wonder, the old happy freedom from 
fateful yesterdays and portentous tomorrows will some 
day have passed away forever. And the old happy laugh- 
ter will return, and the countenance be so smoothed out 
by the delight of the new Dawn, that never a care line 
shall remain to mark where the plough of anxiety once 
left its fretful furrow. The trailing clouds of glory 
shall gather again, shot through with gold, and fretted 
with the light akin to that which lights the Great Home 
City. And the seraphim guarding the Eden gate shall 
sheathe the fla/ning sword, and again we shall move 
among the lilies of God's planting, and rest under the 
trees of the Lord that are full of sap. 



'la ^ons of rtje^ouT 19 



From a far off golden clime. 

In the infancy of Time, 
Comes the legend of a love, 

Fair as aught beneath, above; 
Yet we of it little know. 

For that story long ago 
Vanished leaving but a line. 

Yet that one line fruitful is, 
*'My beloved he is mine. 

And I am his.*' 

''She is all fair, all fair!" 

Replied that lover — ages dead — 
Dead these three score thousand years, 

''Yea'' sang he, dreaming of his love, 
''Than all is she more fair. 

Than all here — anywhere — 
In sod, or sea, or mine or air. 

Fairer than sky-dome far outspread. 
Or silvery moon, or starry spheres. 

That reign and flame above!" 

Gone are the singers cycles since, but still 

Lingers the song, the dear love song of old; 

Vibrating through the soul as music till. 
We can but listen to its magic thrill. 

That song in which of love one to the other told. 
From ripe red lips turned ages since to mould. 



20 gesiterbapg 3^eturn 



ryuND the old days of companionship shall return also. 
fyr\ ^h, the dead days of the long ago! They went 
down in the glowing West, and with tear blinded 
eyes we watched them receding and ending. But we are 
moving towards the East, dear heart. And a day is 
about to break, O I know it, for I have learned it in 
the midnights when my aching heart cried "God, how 
much is off the night f and whispering through the dark- 
ness came the sacred melody — ''The morning comethf* 
Not "mornings" are coming; no, just the morning! For 
never then shall the twilight deepen into the dusk, and 
the dusk be lost in the great dark; for that morning of 
which God has told me, is the Dawn of the great day 
whose light shall never fade nor pass away; for then 
we shall live in the Light of His countenance. 

Canaan followed Egypt; and the Resurrection suc- 
ceeded Calvary; and Soul thou are moving on over the 
rising ground. And — 

Over the hills all the dreams come true. 
Over the hills God makes old things new. 
And over those hills Love waits for you. 
And you will wait for me. 



Might ^abe Peen 



21 



Droiuned in the sea is the dying sun. 

Menacing clouds hang low; 
Moaneth the wind that the day is done; 

Darkness reigns below 
And my soul in a mist of grief is drenched. 

Wind-beaten, and tempest-tossed; 
Recalling life-lights long since quenched. 

And starry crowns now lost. 
And in fancy again I see the gleam 
Of a Golden City I oft have seen — 
But see no more, save in mocking dream- 
Maddening worse than mirage's sheen — 

The City of ''Might Have Been!" 



Riseth the sun o'er the shimmering sea. 

Cloudless the morning sky ; 
Perfumed zephyrs from flowery lea; 

Reigneth the day on high. 
Beyond the rise of the Eastern hills 

Clearly I now behold. 
Far from sorrow, and earthly ills. 

The shining City of Gold. 
When a few more silver moons have waned, 
A few more fiery sunsets flamed; 
The sun-kissed heights at last attained, 
I shall reach the City, in splendor framed — 
The City of ''Might Have Been!" 




22 Wtft (great Secret 



HAT an Alchemist is Love I How it transmutes 
all to gold; that is to say, how it preserves in 
the last analysis nothing but the pure gold with- 
out alloy. For all the dross it utterly consumes; and 
aught of inferior value it destroys. 

You see we never recall with any bitterness the hasty 
words spoken by those zue love. For if recalled at odd 
tijnes by coincidence or associated ideas, there is nothing 
in the remembrance to disturb the heart; for under Love's 
sweet sway those seemingly jarring notes have been caught 
up and blended in the sweet and tender melody that as an 
atmosphere surrounds the soul. 

How even the chance actions that seemed ungracious 
at the tiine become as peaceful pictures hung on memory's 
walls; at which Love quaintly smiles; and about them she 
jocularly talks, as she sees them enveloped in a lovely seren- 
ity that makes them look only as rough places in a land- 
scape o'er which God's honeysuckles twine, and about 
which God's sweet-briars exhale rare fragrance, and above 
which God's song birds ceaselessly sing. And if recollec- 
tion be suggested — by some stranger to Love's magic — 
of the by-gone frets and foolishnesses — that sunder all 
alliances save those of the soul — why Love calmly regards 
such mernories, and smilingly says with upturned face on 
which the light of lights falls in calm and quiet beauty — 
''Ah, I know; and I understand; and I love on the same 
forever." 

Is the loving heart taunted by some embittering sugges- 
tion connected with the beloved; or is effort made to mani- 
fest some i?nperfection in the beloved to weaken the trust- 
ful loyality of the loving soul; then does Love laugh, and 
place upon the seeming fault the rich colors of the rain- 
bow, and the witchery of twilight, and rich bowers of per- 
fumed flowers. 

Why Love dares to point out rough places on the road- 
way, and say, ''Do you remember that strange word or 
act;" and then she sjniles and sighs, because in proud 
possession of a peace and joy that can never be adequately 
expressed. 



Manberlust 23 



O to sing a wild song; a song of desert spaces^ 

Where the white and lawless sand is ever drifting free, 

And blossoms of the wilderness adorn the hidden places. 
Cheery in their messages to thee, dear heart, and me. 

O to sing a wild song; a song of wide sea reaches 

Where the restless roaring billows shout their ecstacy ; 

Or where the seaweed floats about the firm long sandy 
beaches. 
And forgotten is the world by thee, dear heart, and me. 

O to sing a wild song; a song of mountain splendor. 
Where an echo ne'er is born in cavern or in tree; 

And stars come ever nearer in their burning brilliant ardor, 
Writing mystic poetry for thee, dear heart, and me. 

O to sing a wild song; a song of many nations. 
We a pair of vagabonds and wandering merrily; 

While stream and vagrant shy things bestow congratu- 
lations. 
Upon careless wayfarers like thee, dear heart, and me. 

O to sing a luild song; a song all elemental; 

Where the false conventions all are shattered recklessly; 
And where we live our own lives in the light of things 
essential, 
A rightful, good, and gay life for thee, dear heart, 
and me. 



24 ^bibms Hohe 



^fOVE remaineth! '' 'But it did not remain.' 'Then it 
^J_ was not love\" . And that one thing is settled, and 
can be dismissed. 
Says a character in a burlesque — "The night before I 
married, I considered which of two chances I should 
take." She used the right word — Chance. For she knew 
no more of Love than a coyote knows of Beethoven! 
Hear your old mother to your father, say — 

"Though you are nothing to the world 
You are all the world to me.'' 
Hear your old father answer your mother — 
"If of all the world I had my choice 
I would choose you evermore." 
Love remaineth. Time is nothing to it. Change never 
touches it. Space it fills. It outrides all hurricanes. It 
soars above all clouds. It sings — 

"Thy voice is on the rolling air, 
I hear thee where the waters run, 
Thou standest in the rising sun. 
And in its setting thou are fair; 
Far off thou art, but ever nigh; 
I have thee still, and I rejoice; 
I prosper, circled by thy voice; 
I shall not lose thee though I die." 
Do you lovef To that extent you are eternal. Are you 
lovedf Then immortality has touched you. For Love 
is of God. And God is Love. And God loves you. 



jFruition 25 



Three of us sat by the firelight, 

{O but the night was fair) 
Full in the ruddy glow so bright, 

Watching the pictures there. 

One saw the home of his childhood, 
(O but the moon was low) 

Orchard, and brook, and the wildwood. 
Scenes of the long ago. 

One beheld riches and glory, 

(O but the wind was free) 
E'er making of life's sweet story 

Marvelous melody. 

I saw no glory, home, nor gold; 

(O but the sky was clear) 
But I saw more than all they told. 

For I saw you a-near. 



26 



i5oto anb ^Itoapg 



# 



/ImI ^-^ /ot:'^^ m higher love endure/* So sang the 
sweetest singer of the century gone. And he 
was right; as a few people in each generation 
know full well. Others beside the poets have found it 
out; but the singers of the centuries have best proclaimed 
it. One of them approached it as he sang: 

*'It is not while beauty and youth are thine own. 

And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear; 
That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known. 
To ivhich time will but make thee more dear." 
For not dependent on face or form — said Moore — is the 
heart's affection; and not fleeting is its character; nor 
marred by fluctuation; but as the mountain maintains its 
place, and retains its forjn, whether o'er it is poured the 
sunlight, the rattling hail, or the fleecy snow; so love 
remains unhurt among the changes that disturb all those 
things that fail to deeply root themselves amid the instincts 
of the soul. As Mrs. Browning told long ago — 

''// thou must love me, let it be for naught. 
Except for love's sake only; Do not say 
I love her for her smile, her look, her way 
Of speaking gently, for a trick of thought 
That falls in well with mine. 
For all these may change, or be excelled in others — 
''But love me for love's sake, that evermore 
Thou mays' t love on through love's eternity." 



^isf)t ^ons 27 



The scent of the woodbine; the weary cattle lowing; 

Little racing wavelets of the light receding fast; 
And the moist sea tang on the evening breeze a-blowing; 

And I looking ever where the sun shone last. 

Oh the dying day, and the coming of the starlight. 
The hush, the gentle tenderness of gloaming a-near; 

Oh the brooding silence that grows denser till the midnight. 
And the longing your dear face and voice to see and hear. 

The strange solemn night, the monitions of the angel wings; 

Those angels who receded long ago beyond our ken — 
And the voices that the whisper of the low wind brings; 

In spirit I behold you, in spirit hear you then. 

So a song for the darkness so full of presences; 

A song for the brooding, and the mystic loneliness. 
Telling of the long night wherein pleasant dreaming is. 

When you will be beside me to minister and bless. 

Let the sun go down, and somber grow the land and sea. 
Let the noises of the world be hushed for ever more; 

I shall hear you calling, calling ever tenderly. 

Listen to you, see you, love you, worship and adore. 



28 jStottottt)gtaHbing gill 



# 



OD is love. Therefore Love is everywhere. North, 
South, East, or West — everywhere is Love. 

And thus the loving can hold converse with the 
loved all the world over, and all the Universe through. 
And continents are nothing, and mountain ranges are 
nothing, and wide prairies are nothing, and the great seas 
are nothing, and star spaces are nothing, and sight and 
sense are nothing; for love is omnipresent, and holds com- 
munion regardless of separating agencies of tijne and 
place. 

So to those far away, the wireless telegraph of the soul 
sends its loving messages of sustaining force and lofty cheer. 
And to those above, whose garments are ".rllte in the 
radiance of God, love still says — 

*^I send my heart up to thee 
All my heart in this my singing** 
And evermore the soul exultantly declares, "I am per- 
suaded that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor prin- 
cipalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to 
come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall 
he able to separate us from love." 

Why not — because love is of God, and God is Love. 
Incredible/ No — 

''For the love of God is broader 

Than the measure of ?nans mind; 
And the heart of the Eternal 
Is most wonderfully kind.** 



Cfje jTirgt 3Bap 29 



/ would I might make Time commence alone, 

With that fresh morning when I first saw thee 
With hand of greeting outstretched unto me, 

While o'er thy form the rippling sunlight shone: 
Then I forgot the fairness of the view. 

The song of birds, the sweet flowers' scent outspread. 
The happy earth, the cloudless sky above; 

For all I saw that day was you — but you: 
What happened e'er you came, went swift away; 

And I have lived, but since I saw your face; 
The face e'er fairer growing — ever fairer — yea 

With each day's passing: Fairer e'er 
To grow forever; Whether Here, or Where 

We meet again, to part no more for aye. 



30 tKfte Worb Jf itip Spoken 



^^HOUGH I speak with the tongues of men, or 
\f\j of angels" — said the Apostle — "and have not love, 
I am become as sounding brass, and as a clanging 
cymbal." 

Tongues of men — ah much is contained in that phrase! 
Tongues of the Isaiahs, the Davids, the Homers, the 
Demosthenes, the Dantes, the Brownings, the Shakespeares 
the Johns. And the tongues of angels — they whose sub- 
jects of high speech are the Creation of seas, and of skies; 
are the varied governments of God; and the great pur- 
poses of Redemption. Yet says Paul, though one had all 
the manifold excellences of angelic and human eloquence, 
and lacked love; one would be but as a bit of brass rudely 
and roughly sounding; and but as a clanging cymbal. 

For what would avail an eloquent tongue if no loving 
heart prompted it to kindly utterance? Would it not be 
injurious; as oceans released from barriers, or stars that 
had left their orbits, or angels with high gifts put to igno- 
ble purposes. And what after all avails, if graces, or if 
grace be absent. When did ever unloving rhetoric bless 
the life or soul of manf But the broken accent that has 
within it the passion of a great love is poetry and music 
combined. O ye of the eloquent tongue and unloving 
heart, one cannot but wish for you the unbroken silence. 
For who cares to listen to the sounding of brass, and who 
but is disturbed by the clanging of a cymbal? 

And we can possess this love. Though the eloquence 
of men and of angels be denied us, we may know the charm 
and potency of love. Aye, but if we love, we shall by 
virtue of that love, be eloquent. O read the stately rhe- 
toric of Isaiah, and Ezekiel, and Paul, and Milton, and 
Plato and Cicero, and then know there is more — than 
in them all, if they be without heart — in one little sen- 
tence, that says, "I love you!' 



'3 ^erbe" 31 



// may never be mine. 

In the noon-tide of day, 
fVith the victors to walk the proud street; 

My name may not shine 
In the triumph so gay; 

Not for me ivould the laurel be meet. 

With no bugles' loud blare. 

And no ringing of bell. 
And no banner afloat on the breeze; 

No loud paen rare. 
On the live air to swell. 

Little merit have I to hear these. 

No noon-tide of glory. 

Nor melodious song. 
Just a grave, and above me but sod; 

No theme for story. 
And no fame to prolong; 

I just fought in the gloaming with God. 



32 "ILo, tfjE Wiinttt in ^aKt" 



^ ' ■ ' HE Robins are here." And jubilant as is the 



¥ 



Robin s song was the voice of the speaker. 

But I think the Robins have been here all 
the Winter through. For it seems to me that I have 
seen them every single week. But anyhow, "The Robins 
are here" 

And how much they bring to us! The fair days of 
childhood when the heart was careless and light. And 
again we see the little old Schoolhouse, and the Teacher 
who long ago went away. And we play over again the 
old games; and go romping about the fields; and pick 
the flowers; and eat the berries; and — aught else eat- 
able. And the Old Swimming Hole — we see it again! 
And so we do the quiet pool under the Alders where 
we caught the Trout! And we find ourselves inclined to 
walk undignifiedly, in fact we ape a swagger; and we 
want to shout, and call folks by the first name, and we 
let slip a nick-name forgotten so long; and we would like 
to sing aloud the old songs. But we compromise by 
Whistling! The Robins are here! And Spring is at 
the door!! And the Resurrection is on!!! 



l^ebeiUe 33 



O heart, my heart, dismiss all fear; 

All sadness heart; and sorrow; 
The Winter s gone, and Spring is here. 

And the swallows come to-morrow. 

O heart, my heart, the snow lay long 

On sloping hill and hollow; 
But hark, and hear, the robin s song; 
And the swallows come to-morrow. 

O heart, my heart, the daffodils. 
Gold from the crocus borrow; 

The violet perfume sweet distills; 
And the swallows come to-morrow. 



**Wf}tvt Mtit^tv iWotft Mov aaugt ©otfi Corrupt*' 



3 



^^^[£HAFE you in my heart." So said Paul to his 
friends. Whom do you hold in your heart? The 
real treasure is that the heart holds. "What is 
that in thine hand?" — lost may that be, and thou lose 
naught! And in the head? — the things of fancy, mere 
desire, things without which the life is rich as ever. But 
the hidden things of the heart — hid where you and God 
alone can see — safe and secure, owned forever. How 
little we really lose! For what we can lose, is all out- 
side the heart. And how little loss we sustain by losing 
such. How much we could do without. "You are 
essential to me," we say to little — to few. O there is 
only one loss, the heart treasure; and that we never lose, 
so there is no loss at all. "Sawest thou the glories of 
Rome? I saw nothing, save my lover s face as he offered 
his life for mine." Ah, thy presence fills the whole world 
of space and evermore I can commune with thee. Let all 
go save thou, says the soul, and naught is lost; shouldst 
thou be lost, naught remains. "In my heart," O envied 
Phillipian! Art thou a resident of the heart? Appre- 
ciate thy palace home; rest securely in thy castle; love 
thy heaven. Ne'er shall the glory fade; the strength 
weaken; the home be lost. Let rains rush, winds rave, 
floods roar, and all the world's houses fall, thou art in the 
heart! "In my heart" — Said Paul — says Christ. 



3n tlje ifHornins 35 



When all around and about me the twilight is 
sullenly falling. 
And the low wind of evening all menaceful, smites 
my dull ear; 
Into the moan and the gloom do thou send thy voice 
tenderly calling; 
Oh my dear, have no fear, I shall hear. 

When in ?ny low narrow bed, I my last sleep securely 
am sleeping. 
Dreaming no dream that can evermore sadden, or 
gladden, or cheer; 
If thou a-near my lone grave shouldst appear either sighing 
or weeping. 
Do not fear, I shall hear, and appear. 

When I am far, far away in some world of God's 
wonderful making. 
And thou on the other extreme of God's space, should 
know fear; 
Swifter than dream ever shaped in the brain of a 
sleeper awaking, 
I shall hear, and appear, and draw near. 



36 Congtancp 




E WAS sought! It was but a trifling matter — 
but it was not straight. And refusing, he met the 
expostulation — "It's all right, there's no fear, it's 
but an incidental thing" — and he made this reply, 
^'There's a wo?nan a thousand miles away, wouldn't like 
me to do it." 

To live so as to impress another life in that high rare 
way, is the reward of motherhood; the coronation of 
affection; and the wine of life sipped from the chalice of 
God. 

And a woman protnpting a reply like that, wears 
purple; for she is royal, and she is crowned — in the pal- 
ace of influence to graciously reign — and the throne she 
sits upon is more regal than was Caesar's and grander 
than was his of Syria. 

She can stand erect, when the chill rain of disparage- 
ment falls upon her; and when non-appreciation chills, 
she can warm herself at the shrine where none may e' er 
intrude; and for her the solitary place shall be made 
populous; and the desert shall blossom with the rose, 
the violet, and the daisy. She shall walk grandly and 
bear herself as an Empress and a Queen. Above the dis- 
cords of life she shall hear melodies, and in the gloom 
see sunbursts of glory ; hers shall be the jewels richer than 
those of mine or sea; she shall be envied by the angels, to 
her flaming seraphs shall grant precedence; and she 
shall receive sustenance to her soul of which the world is 
unaware. For her in the darkness light shall shine; be- 
fore her the hill shall be abased, the valley exalted, and 
all the rough places be made smooth and beautiful; she 
shall have songs in the night; and when the storm blows, 
she shall hear a strong, sweet voice above the tempest; 
and ever in her ear shall ring the reassuring note, ''All's 
Well." 



^tmper Si^tlii ^ 



Mountain eternal; by night as by day 

Steadfast on high; 
Enduring, unchanging, and loyal alway. 

As you — so I, 

Brooding the secret o'er; hiding it where 

IS! one may espy; 
Silent, jnysterious, lone, yet aware. 

As you — so I. 

Unheeding the turbulent, wandering wind 

Hurtling e'er by; 
Unf earing aught future, around, or behind. 

As you — so L 

Waiting expectant, prepared, and alert. 

What e'er be nigh; 
By calm unseduced, and by temptest unhurt. 

As you — so I. 

Snow-wreathed, but ever at heart a wild flame 

Burns ever nigh; 
Consuming, consumed, in appearance the same. 

As you — so I. 

"Never to clamor and questioning men 

Deigning reply; 
Self-sufficient, defiant, beyond the world's ken. 

As you — so I. 

Mate to thy soul is the Star of the North, 

Fixed in the sky; 
Sundered, yet faithful, true to the troth. 

As you — so I. 



38 "in WitU Of Hibins OTaters" 



^ffOVE never faileth. Where love is, there can be no 
if failure. The unsuccessful life is the unloving, and 
"^^^ unloved life. He wins who is loved; he loses who 
is unloved. All other possessions of the life may be lost. 
Beauty, talent, grace, gifts of men, of nature, all may 
go — Love remains. It braves asylums, jails, hospitals, 
cemeteries; space it defies; and Time is to it naught; 
-solitude it peoples; desert sands become miles of dia- 
monds; it suffices for all lack; compensates for all losses; 
turns "minus" into "plus" ; fills life's little day with sun- 
shine, starlight, and moonbeam. The ocean of Love is 
ever at flood, it knows no ebb; of Love's horizon of satis- 
faction there are no boundaries, nor limits; without if 
there could be no heaven; with it there can be no helL 
For love were the world well lost! While love remains, 
no world can e'er be lost — for it sky-like contains all 
worlds within itself, 

"The night has a thousand eyes, 
The day but one; 

But the light of the whole world dies. 
With the setting sun. 

The mind has a thousand eyes 

The heart but one; 
But the light of a whole life dies. 

When love is done.'* 



OTijcn ti)e iWoon (g jjto 39 



Through the dew-drenched pastures 

Hear the soft winds blow! 
She, and her beloved. 

Hand in hand now go; 
Vows of love are spoken, 

(See the moon is low) 
Never to be broken. 

In life's ebb and flow. 

Through the dew-drenched pastures. 

Hear the storm-winds blow! 
Meet they joy and sorrow. 

Oft the sad tears flow; 
Neither heart has faltered, 

{See the moon is low.) 
Nor has love e'er altered 

Mid hopes overthrow. 

Through the dew-drenched pastures. 

Hear the sad winds blow! 
hocked in their last slumber. 

Ride they, still and slow; 
Sundered were they never, 

(See the moon is low) 
Side by side — as ever — 

To the grave they go. 




40 Xotjc'g Uiolete 



JOW love breeds lowVmess. How love makes the 
soul conscious of unworth. "I am not worthy O 
Master,'' ever cries the soul to love. "Depart from 
me for I am sinful, O love," is the natural utterance of 
the heart. Suppliant to love is the life ever. To be better 
for love's sake is the high appeal felt by the greatest. Here 
love ever constraineth. To be made fit by the purifying 
flame, or cleansing water — this is the wish of the life 
seeking to prepare for love's tenancy. For love ever the 
spirit fears that the space twixt the stars may be impure, 
and the wind of mid-ocean tainted. The highest purity 
in the presence of love cries, ''I am unclean!" The rarest 
nature in the embrace of love, bemoans its unfitness. The 
grandest talent zuhen love visits it, feels too mean to ade- 
quately bless. Genius, of love asks condescending recog- 
nition. Humility grows rankly in the soil of love. Emu- 
lation, envy, disparagement , self -exalting comparison; ar- 
gues love absent, or dead. "Thou art all fair," says love 
— and I am unlovely and poor — so poor, it adds. Con- 
descend — it even says — to cherish .me, and more conde- 
scension still — to be cherished by me. "Thou art mine" 
in abasement and consciousness of demerit, whispers the 
soul; while wondering at the wine of life being placed to 
such a parched and valueless lip. Therefore does strength 
bow lowly to love; and wisdom grows modest in its pres- 
ence. Unworthy, as the child's love is received; unworthy, 
as the man or woman hands over to the other this Skekinah 
glory; unworthy, says Simon Peter ever, to the loved and 
loving Saviour. Great — greater — greatest — is Love, 



tKije Sentinel ^ 



Thy warder I stand, thy guardian too. 
Ever Fm ready, and steady as Fate; 

Silent, and changeless; for evermore true; 
Watchful, and loyal, and patient, I wait. 

Sure, and sufficient; strong, and reliant; 

Trusting, unfailing, and certain, and nigh; 
Finn, and resourceful; calm, yet defiant; 

Ever thy warder and guardian I ; 

Tempest, with storm clouds yawning asunder. 
Snow, hail, or hurricane, wild flood, or flame; 

Fierce flashing lightning, menacing thunder. 
Keep I my watch and ward, ever the same. 

Tranquilly slumber, beautiful Valley, 

Fear no surprise, no marauder, no wrong; 

Ever thy Mountain stands to protect thee. 

Heedful, and helpful, true, tender, and strong. 



42 feummum ponum 



^^^WrHE greatest is Love" said the Apostle as he meas- 
\w\y tired the three mountains known as Faith, Hope, 
■•■ Love. 

Taller than Hope — sun-kissed and verdure-cladf Yes, 
Higher than Faith — purple-breasted snowy-crestedf Yes. 
The Greatest is Love. 

When the women on the first Easter morn wended their 
way to the sepulchre with the spices, they fully believed 
Christ to be dead. Faith was in eclipse! 

Hope too had withdrawn; and where it once loomed, 
the mist darkened; for with a dead Christ what reason 
had Hope to remain. 

But Love triumphed still — though Faith and Hope 
might no longer be seen — and to those women's affec- 
tionate hearts the dear dead body of the Loved One, was 
still precious and sacred. 

Faith is a tall mountain — but some mountains shake — 
and Hope is a tall mountain — but so?ne mountains shake — 
and Love is a tall mountain — and this juountain may never 
shake — for God is Love, and Love is of God. 

The mother had lost all Faith in the ever repeated, ever 
defeated resolves of her wayward boy ; and as he fell from 
point to point a-down sins slopes as a bounding boulder 
down a far hillside, even Hope had fled South to escape 
the desolating frost of death; but Love remained/ And 
though Reason said, ''He is unworthy/' and though Ex- 
perience corroborated Reason s yerdict, yet the mother 
Love — moving as a mighty sea and imaging the Infinite 
by its devotion — cried, ''He is my boy still." 

Love, the roads are rough. And many a light has flick- 
ered out since we commenced our pilgrimage — but look 
you — Love remains constant as Pole Star — bright as noon- 
tide — large as God's right hand — and beautiful as the 
nearing lights of Home. Selah! 



Ctoilisftt 43 



O the charm of mellow musing twilight. 

When mystic brooding falls o'er land and sea; 
For then on mind and heart thy presence bright 

Rests as a sweet and solemn mystery: 
And o'er my soul in that old regal way 

Of thine, thou reignest, ever thou alone; 
Then all the world recedes, till far away 

Is sense, and time, earth's laughter and its moan; 
And I forget all my drear yesterdays. 

And sad tomorrows are as unborn things; 
As all my life thy mighty presence sways 

While unto thee my spirit homage brings; 
And I let slip the sky, the earth, the sea. 

Am blind, and deaf, and dumb, to all save thee. 



44 Wiit ISloIlmg jgcar 



C 



^^ /^^HANGE and decay in all around I see." Yes, in 
all around — to an extent. But not in the things 
of the sky, and of the soul! 
"Canst thou bind the cluster of the Pleiades, or loose 
the bands of Orionf" asked God of Job, as the patriarch 
gazed into the night sky, long ?nilleniums ago. And the 
Pleiades, and Orion, are still in their appointed place! 
As Noah saw the rainbow, so Wordsworth saw it, when 
he wrote — 

"My heart leaps up when I behold 
A rainbow in the sky." 
Does Kipling say — 

"The dawn comes up like thunder. 
Out of China cross the bay" — 
Well, the Hebrew Psalmist saw the wonderful lights of 
heaven thirty centuries ago, and of them more poetically 
and accurately said — 

"There is no speech nor language. 
Their voice cannot be heard; 
Their line has gone out to all the earth. 
And their words to the end of the world." 
And the heart remains the same. 

Isaac still muses in the twilight hour; Ruth still clings 
to Naomi; David is ever watching Jonathan as he shoots 
his arrow in the field; and whoso will can hear Ishmael 
cry, "Bless ine, even me, O my Father." 

The singer of the Canticles sang of his lozuly love, — ere 
Rome was born, or Shakespeare wrote, — 

"Many waters cannot quench love. 
Neither can the floods drown it; 
And whoso would exchange aught for love. 
Would be utterly contemned." 



0ttOhtV 45 



O Valley, 'twixt the sloping fair hill sides. 

And Autumn winds a- crying — 
Rich colored crests, where mystery abides, 

A million leaves a-f lying — 
Dark verdure of the dusky twilight shade. 

The splendid woods a-dying — 
Low murmuring brooklet in the lowly glade, 

A singing, then a-sighing — 
Sources of Summer life now open laid. 

The ripened nuts a-drying — 
O couch most rare, by Mother Nature made. 

And I on it a-lying — 
As rosy crests, shade, gloom, in view appear. 

Making this tenth month beautiful and dear. 



46 ^mliDrins Hobe 



3 HAVE wondered for long years why Love has not 
been more likened to an Anchor. And I have con- 
cluded that it is because Love is so holy a thing, and 
so sacred a fact, that men care not to overmuch discuss it; 
or reveal those secret workings, which, while known to all 
who love, can nevermore be understood by the unloving. 

But what an Anchor, sure, and steadfast; gale enduring; 
and storm resisting; Love is! 

You parents, know you not that to possess the love of 
your children is to have them grappled to your souls by 
''Hooks of steel." ''My Father would grieve" ; "My 
Mother would mourn" ; has been the unexpressed reason 
why many a young life has held to safe courses, when 
seduced by the evil. And I declare, as one who has studied 
this matter for long, long years, that when the boy knows 
he has his mother s full love; and when a girl is sure of 
a strong father s deathless affection, there is given to the 
life of the child the restraint from evil, that is the second 
strongest force in the world. And I write these things 
in this order advisedly. For when a mother is a real 
mother; and when the father is of gold unalloyed; the 
boy is influenced by the mother, and the girl by the father, 
as herein indicated. And all the dissent of the four winds 
cannot dislodge me from this fact. "My Mother" ; ah, 
the argument, the appeal, the im/nunity, the security this 
phrase affords! "My Father"; O men heed not the 
sophistry of the devil, that you are of inferior force in the 
child's life. For, thank God, there are as many good fathers 
as there are good mothers. And your daughter in the hour 
when currents pull, and eddies swing, will think of you, 
and find anchorage that is out of the grip of sins sea. 



iWip iWottier 47 



She came to me last night, when bright, the fair moonlight 
was playing. 
In fairy forms so fanciful upon my chamber floor; 
And in her face, so full of grace, no trace of aught 
dismaying; 
But kind, serene, and beautiful, as in the days of yore. 

She came to me last night, when bright, the fair moonlight 
was playing; 
Her voice as low and tender as in happy days long fled; 
And from my hair, the crown of care, which there, had 
long been weighing. 
Was lifted, as I listened to the loving words she said. 

She came to me last night, when bright, the fair moonlight 
was playing; 
And never will the vision drift from out my yearn- 
ing sight; 
For well I know, where'er I go, or weal or woe displaying. 
Still with me is my mother, as my soul saw her last night. 



48 #ragg 







THE grass, the green, green grass! Grass! Knowing 
all the secrets of the underworld; listening to the 
rootlets of the herbs and shrubs as they tell of sum- 
mer gone, and of the golden autumn; listening too, when 
the brown bulbs and seeds under the soil ask whether the 
swallows have come; or has the robin been heard yet; and 
is it time to push their brave way upward where color will 
come from the great Magician the sun; and where lost 
scents from Eden will stop to woo the scarlet and the 
gold and the blue, that still speak of a Paradise Lost, which 
may yet be a Paradise Regained. 

O the grass, the green, green grass! Sing me a song of 
the grass, great poet. For then shall I know the secret 
that makes wise the owl's eyes; that gives the chattering 
mirth to that comedian of the woods, the squirrel; that 
drugs the chrysalis during the wintry weather; and makes 
firm the flimsy drapery of the spider s web to hold the 
pearly dew; and the secrets of the little daisies would be 
mine, and I should know what makes them blush, and 
then again grow white with fear; the cause of the night- 
ingale's pain relieved by exquisite song would be revealed 
to me then; and I should know what dreams the bee has 
when drowsing in the daffodil's cup; and then too should 
I know what resting children think as they nestle them- 
selves in the turf ; and ''What God and man is.'' 

O the grass! The beautiful carpet God walked on in 
Eden when the cool twilight was falling; the sheltering 
grass; the gay forest in which a million million lives are 
hid; the kind-hearted grass that covers up all the wounds 
of earth, even its graves; the bonny brave grass that will 
in all weathers keep its tryst with the fragrant ground; the 
grass that was before man, and that never forsakes man, 
and at last in its own broad democratic kindness will, if 
unopposed, cover the prince and the pauper alike. O why 
has not some Isaiah sung the song of the grass; and luhy did 
not John in his Apocalyptic pictures give us just one picture 
of the grass growing fresh and green in the Gardens of 
God. 



#tpS(p 49 



Gipsy am I, my roof is the sky; 

Easy and light my load; 
I sing, not sigh; and gladly I 

Await the turn of the road. 

Gipsy am I, and my head is high; 

Master I've none, nor goad; 
Miles go by, as expectant I 

Await the turn of the road. 

Gipsy am I, and I fate defy; 

No fear have I, nor bode; 
Owner of sky and sod, as I 

Await the turn of the road. 

Gipsy am I, just a passer-by; 

Exempt from care's corrode; 
To live or die — unf earing — / 

Await the turn of the road. 

Gipsy am I, was my reply. 
To all from whom I strode; 

I shall espy you soon, so I 
Await the turn of the road. 



50 ©etijsiong 



^ff^HE souVs choices are not as chalk marks on a hlack- 

411. hoard, to he easily erased; they are ultimate, in- 

effaceable, final decisions. They obtain over all 

other choices; and they survive all changing moods; and 

they are the real facts of life, that should evermore be 

watched and jealously guarded. And in the realm of the 

emotional they hold a life determining sway. 

''Yes," I answered you last night, 

''No/' I answer you today; 
Colors seen by candle-light. 
Do not look the same by day. 
But often for lack of looking at colors by daylight there 
enters the marriage of haste, of ignorance, of convenience, 
or folly. And there enters also the degradation, the stulti- 
fication, the Divorce Court, and the Devil. "Till death 
shall ye part" — well, if Death can part them, other things 
more present and potent than Death may also effect a 
severance. "So long as ye both shall live" — then, if they 
live forever, the pledge is one of eternal fealty. 



;^irase si 



/ near, quite near to far off Canaan went. 

And saw the vineyards, and the varied good, 
And thought to make them mine; My daily food 

Their beauty and their richness: But overspent 
I laid me down in slumber: Then awoke 

All filled with longing my rare gains to taste; 
What was it greeted mef The desert waste 

Had come again, and Canaan s charm was broke! 
And I, oh I turn Egyptward again. 

To tread the dreary, lone, and dusty road. 
My hunger unappeased, my quest in vain; 

Regret tormenting ever with its bitter goad; 
So farewell Canaan, place of rest and gain! 

I journey back to Egypt with my load. 



52 Hobe'g ^istJt 



m 



'ADERS of Ian Maclarens books will be able to 
readily recall Drumsheugh, the lone and silent laird 
of Drmntochty. They will also remember how he 
had long loved Margaret Howe; but by a seemingly wrong 
entry in Doomsday Book, his love found no fruition in 
possession. So he carried about with him ever this true 
and firm affection; and mentioned it never, save in one 
agony of heart-break, even to old age. But he lived his 
lonely life, in his lone house; against which ever the winds 
blew, with the drenching rain, and the desolating cold; 
and was uncomforted and uncompensated, save by his 
strong and immortal affection; coupled indeed with that 
fruitage of moral beauty which such a mighty love in- 
evitably bestows. 

Yet how much better off was Drumsheugh than were 
many of his neighbors in the Glen! For his golden 
''Gleani' never vanished; his divine "Melody" ever sang 
itself with increasing sweetness; and his "Ideal" retained 
its sunny radiance, and sufficing allurement. 

And so Drumsheugh lived his life of drudgery and 
dreaming; he made his bargains and bestowed his benev- 
olences; and very often sighed he in his throat, the white 
in his heart those joy bells were ringing, which distilled a 
rarer music than that of the Morning Stars that hymned 
the Creation; and which is of the same quality as that 
which delighted the Shepherds on Bethlehem's peaceful 
plains; and is akin in character to the song which beats in 
waves of soothing sweetness against the pearly gates and 
jasper walls of the City of Gold. 

"For there is a soul of goodness in things evil/' 



Mvit 



53 



Could I but sing some song to you, and bring 

Before your mind what eer in you I find! 
How blooms the desert drear when you appear, 

To cast your spell o'er brain, and heart as well; 
If you could know how, when the wild winds blow. 

And eddies pull, and clouds bulk menace-full. 
When neither near nor far shines guiding star. 

And chart and compass fail in the great gale. 
When no help seems to be on life's wild sea. 

How o'er the brine shines out your form sublime. 
Till where blows no blast, I safe anchor cast. 

And rest serene where turmoil erst has been; 
Could I unfold what in you I behold. 

You then would wear the royal purple fair! 



54 3t ig WitU. 



# 



44 yi^^NE of God's lilies." Thus I remarked after hear- 
ing the story of a life the other day. A life lived 
under circumstances the most trying, and uncon- 
genial, and depressing. Yet lived nobly, with rare ideals 
cherished, and lofty purposes stubbornly retained. With 
a continuance in prayerfulness, despite environment of 
antagonism to all that is good. With a persistency in Bible 
study, through blasphemy surrounded like sooty smoke. 
Thus a character forming, white as the snow on mountain 
peaks; and pure as the air of the middle seas; and all in 
spite of steady and studied and violent opposition. Un- 
cheered by kindly word; unstrengthened by an appre-^ 
dating look; in an engendered atmosphere of choke 
damp stifling and foul; and yet all of it withstood by a 
fortitude such as rocks show about whose base the scurry- 
ing waters unsuccessfully fume and chafe. And a great 
sympathy concerning that much tried soul filled my heart; 
and a broad encouragement ; and a massive pride. 

A great sympathy. For under other circumstances, in 
an environment such as has surrounded you, what could not 
this soul have become and beenf If in such soil as that 
I have imperfectly described, such a bloom was forthcom- 
ing, how under favorable circumstances would that blossom 
have perfected itself. 

Encouragement also came to me. Are the Euroclydons 
of life fierce and many? Yet may the mariner keep the 
prow of his boat toward the shore, and in spite of the hurri- 
cane make the harbor. 

And a great pride. O heart of my heart, brave has your 
battle been, and glorious is your victory. And God appre- 
ciates you as God must. Having said which, I add, "Thou 
are the cleanest, truest, bravest soul known to me today." 
And when I find no cause for solace in my own poor life, 
I will look at thee and say, as I proudly view thy solitary 
splendor, ''And I too am mortal, and so necessarily akin to 
thy heroic spirit." ''One of God's lilies!" Yes, and the 
lily grew where the filth was; but O the fairness, and the 
fragrance, and the beauty of the lily! He who can read, 
will read this; and he who cannot — well for him I have 
not written. But we know. 



jMemoriei ss 



/ have forgot much, and now I regret; 

Had I remembered, great had my joy been; 
I have flung from me rare gifts, and have let 

Things that were vain, which I should have surrendered. 
Too much control me, as plainly is seen; 

I have forgot much, but much is remembered. 

I have remembered the scenes of my childhood. 
The birds' nest, and egg, and melodious song; 

Flowers, and ferns of the weird dusky wildwood. 
Magical skies, and the sea-psalm storm-rendered; 

The Church of my fathers, sacred and strong, 
I have forgot ??iuch, but much is remembered. 

I have forgot much, and deep I deplore. 

The good I have lost, which I illy could spare; 

Yet the gift of forgetfulness I will use more. 

And with penitent prayer, and trust to God tendered. 

Lay the white ghosts of remose and despair; 
I have forgot much, but much is remembered. 



56 ^i)t 0mn6 of mtt 



^IMfVOMAN in an Eastern clime, left her water pot^ 
j^mbecause she had found the Source of Living Water. 

That Samaritan woman of two milleniums ago is 
in a long line. May we be found standing in it too. 
In the list of those who forget the smaller in the larger, 
the poorer in the richer, the sordid in the spiritual and the 
Divine. 

For thus selfishness is sloughed off, when the greater 
good of unselfishness is seen. Thus love of ease and fleet- 
ing pleasure lose their charm for us, when the glories of 
toil in Eternal pursuits, present themselves. The petty 
worthless gains of subterfuge and double dealing vanish, as 
spectres from the dawning, when the everlasting strength 
of the Truth is beheld. And the little loves, the petty 
loves, the unsubstantial semblance of love, are all lost in 
the presence of that all controlling, dominating love, that 
fills the soul as seas their channels, and glorifies life as does 
the sun the world. Seven years of surrendered life mean 
much. But well says the Book that knows all the heart 
secrets, that when Jacob gave for Rachel seven years of 
service, the seven years seemed but as seven days because 
of this love. And Christ has said — though no one has yet 
told us what the saying means, and perhaps no one will ever 
dare to do so — "She loved much." 

"Ah, well, the little joys go by; 

I smile remembering, 

I might have loved the clown, if I 

Had never seen the King." 



tKtiP ^regence 57 



Near in the morning; 

When the archers of light 

Their white arrows fling on the far Eastern sky; 

Then thou art nigh. 

Fair in my sight. 

Blessing my life as is Earth by the dawning. 

Near in the mid-day : 

In the hazardous fight. 

That rages for aye *tivixt the Right and the Wrong; 

Cheering me on! 

Telling how night 

Will sure bring the guerdon that follows the fray. 

Near in the twilight: 

When the curtains are drawn 

Of the clouds, and fastened by God with a star; 

Never afar! 

Night, noon, or morn. 

Art thou in thy tenderness, beauty, and might. 



68 trije eternal ILi^t 







^THER lights burn dimly, and many of them flicker ^ 
and fail, and pass away ; thus leaving the gloom but 
blacker because of their removal. But bright and 
steadfast as the fixed stars of God shines evermore Love. 
All else fluctuates; and like the changing year has seasons 
of promise, and fulfillment, and pause, and decay; but 
Love never faileth; for with a constancy that shames moun- 
tains, and seas, and the o'er hanging sky. Love remains 
the same. Youth passes, and ambitions wax and wane, the 
pilgrimage path grows uncertain and mixed as are the 
fragments of glass in the kaleidescope, energy flags, and 
faith wonders, and hope has need of support; but ever 
more Love remains sunlike in constancy, beauty, and power. 

For unthinkable is it to the soul, that Love could ere be 
overcome. It fears no Goliath, and no furnace of fire, 
it has contempt for den of lions, and it leaves the tomb 
empty. It scorns all boundaries, it scales mountains, it 
survives hurricanes, it traverses deserts, it crosses seas, and 
is unhurt among the warring elements, it s?niles at disaster, 
and it fears no foe. ''I will have thee, and hold thee, and 
keep thee I' though a million worlds block the way; aye, 
I will find thee, though the quest consume half an eternity, 
and at last — far-off it may be — at last shall come fruition, 

"Love is strong as death," is the foolish utterance of a 
mere guesser in the realm of the soul's instincts and choices. 
For death has no compelling force over love. Love 
breathes an air in which death could never thrive; Love is 
immortal, while death is of the moment, and is itself dying. 
And when death talks of sundered companionships. Love 
looks up and sings, 

"We shall meet no more in the wind and the rain. 

With the faded bents outspread; 
But I know I shall see thee again, again. 
When the sea gives up its dead." 

For God gives Love, and God is Love. 



'^^ompilia' 



Say nevermore that God can e'er be dumb. 
Say nevermore that God will fail to hear; 

For more and more it clearer doth appear. 
He was ordained to call, and I to come. 

Say evermore the good God answers all 
Who at His altar earnestly will pray; 

For answer to the suppliant comes alway; 
I was ordained to come, as he to call. 

The wrong side of the tapestry we see; 

But when the right side comes into our view. 
Enlarging vision will but prove how true, 

I was ordained for him, and he for me. 

This is the sum of our sweet mystery. 
This ever stays us on our weary ways; 

Unchanged through all the gray or golden days; 
Thou luert ordained for me, as I for thee. 



60 lloofeg of ^teel 



3 HEARD a woman once say to a man : "I pray every 
day that you may be a good man." I have never for- 
gotten that sentence. And forget it I never shall. 
Shall I tell you the response that little sentence re- 
ceived? That man said — "And for your sweet sake I 
will be good 

'Till the sun grows cold; 
And the stars are old; 

And the leaves of the judgment book unfold^.** 
Did you ever thus impress a life? If you have so done, 
thank God that you have lived. For to live long enough 
to do this, is to have lived long enough! It is to have 
evidenced your right to live; it is to have evidenced your 
moral right to receive the eulogy "Well Done." For 
that life you thus blessed; that you may have safeguarded 
against some evil to come out of the gathering gloom of 
the future; that you ?nay have saved; is indissolubly joined 
to your life — / in it, and it in me — is of you; and from it 
you shall never be parted. 

Have you never said aught like this to a living soul? By 
the weariness of life; by the loneliness of it; by the fallen 
in the wilderness ; by the death you may prevent; by the 
life you might save, rise up now and speak that word to 
some one of God's children. 



temper 3bem ei 



Like two twin stars in the midnight's deep blue. 

You loving fnej and I loving you — 
We have companioned life's brief season through. 

Like those star comrades, constant and true. 
What may await us when out in the strange 

New life we waken, doth clearly appear; 
For 'tis decreed that the soul may not change; 

You will know me, and I you, there, as here! 

Like two twin stars with their orbits a-near. 

You loving me, and I loving you — 
Moved we together, skies cloudy or clear; 

Trailing the old path, ignoring the new; 
When we, through darkness, emerge in the light. 

Where the Great Master doth all things renew; 
Souls stay the same, though the glory be bright — 

You will love me there, as here, and I you I 

Like two twin stars by the Maker decreed. 

Ever together to range the night sky, 
We have kept step, as the angels can read — 

You true to me, and to you ever, I ; 
Careless or curious, when out on the wide. 

Dim, unmapped region of vast mystery. 
Walk we unf earing, and still side by side; 

You will have me, and I there shall have thee! 



62 tKrue (Gibing 




JDW Love delights to Give. Love firmly believes 
that "It is more blessed to Give than to Receive. " 
Yes^ love so believes^ and Love so behaves. The 
caricature of Love longs to Get. But Love delights to 
Give. When the soul asks, ''What shall I receive," Love 
has receded far beyond the uttermost Stars. But when 
the soul travails to bestow. Love sits throned and crowned. 
Herein is the infallible test of Love. For the ardour and 
abnegation and unconsciousness with which you impov- 
erish yourself for the sake of another, gages the strength 
of your Love. And the prodigality with which the other 
pours with reckless hand his possessions into your life, 
determines the potency and purity of that Love. That 
treasure may be provided for the beloved is the reason why 
Love slaves, and amasses and serves. Herein is the Heav- 
enly boon and the Celestial brightness of Love discovered. 
Mothers have great satisfaction along this line. For 
what is Motherhood but giving? What sacrifices do moth- 
ers make for their children! But they never know they 
are making sacrifices. True mothers, I mean. For when 
Knowledge of the Sacrifice has come. Love has fled. For 
true Love is unconscious of Sacrifice. ''You have kept 
me from many a pleasure," said a woman to her child. 
And that woman called herself the mother of that child. 
But the angels were undeceived, and they knew she was 
not. 



laftersloto 63 



Call me by name, when the daylight is failing. 

When hushed the birds' song, and the flowers asleep; 

When the glory of twilight is gleaming and paling. 
Call me by name, as the stars vigil keep. 

Call me by name, when my life sun is setting. 

When fails the horizon, and shadows increase; 
When comes the remembrance, or comes the forgetting; 

Call me by name, and the night shall have peace. 

Call me by name, when eternity's morning 

Breaks on my vision in lands far away; 
I shall hark for thy voice in that glorious dawning. 

Call me by name, I shall hear and obey! 



64 J^esurgam 



TTi AT THE Bible there is a si?nple statement zvhich 
jl says, ^'So He giveth His beloved sleep" And that 
^^ is true! And especially illustrated in this Autumn 
season. 

Let thy leaves drop, O hawthorn, lilac and rose; let thy 
foliage pass in glory out of sight, O maple, dogwood and 
sumac; lift thy bared branches bravely, O oak and elm 
and ash; for the God who had joy in thy ?naking is the 
God of Summer and of Winter; He is the God who knows 
the glory of the coming Spring; and as preparation for it 
He now gives in this restful zvinter season a fulfillment of 
the sentence, ''So He giveth His beloved sleep/' 

Do you remember how you stood where the shadows 
lengthened athwart the graves of the cemetery ; when the 
wild winds sadly moaned in the tree tops; as you laid away 
the fairest form in all the world? But it was no mere 
Chance that bereaved thee; nor has any loss overtaken the 
beloved; no, but it was a tender call that the dear one 
heard, and gentle was the touch that arrested longer stay 
in a world of care and pain. 'So He giveth His beloved 
sleep." 

But do you know that what the Psalmist really said was 
this, "He giveth His beloved in sleep." Let the earth hear 
as the autumn leaves rustle down, and the autumn winds 
are crying. Earth, thou are not forgotten by God! He 
knows where the lily bulb lies sleeping. He knows the 
grave of the beech-mast and the acorn. And He knows 
where the fibres of the sleeping rootlets are laid slumbrous- 
ly upon the sweet and mellow soil. And He will give in 
this sleep of Winter such good gifts as shall make the little 
seeds strong for their Spring-tide resurrection; and He will 
impart in this sleep of Nature such power to the bulbs as 
shall 7nake them able to bear on their succulent sterns the 
many tinted bells from which divinest melody and sweetest 
perfume shall fall and float. 



®f)e WBonhtx ILanb es 



Fair is the Wonder Land whose walls 

Gleam in the sunset hour; 
Where never a sombre shadow falls. 

Nor a petal from the flower. 

Land which unsetting suns illume — 
Known to the stars and moon; 

Where constellations caught their tune. 
And its wavy light the moon. 

Where reigns the Mighty Alchemist, 
Who transmutes all to gold; 

And found is dl the good we missed 
In the hoary days of old. 

Where all the little children go 

Who weary at their play; 
And saints of God, with hair of snow. 

As they gently slip away. 

01 fair, fresh Wonder Land, where all 
The hearts dear dreams come true; 

Where soul can answer to souVs call. 
And God makes all things new! 



66 Cfie felabe of Hobe 



C^fACOB served seven years for Rachel, and they 
^1 seemed unto him but a few days, for the love 
^J^ he had to her." So runs the Old World record. 
The record ever new, and ever true! 

The burdens we bear for love's sake are fair to see 
as is varied down on the butterfly's wing; are regal as 
the purple of old Tyre; and are lighter than a sleeping 
baby's sigh. 

Yet there is no slavery like that of Love. Sensitive 
as never was Shelly's ''Sensitive Plant" — troubled by a 
fear lest zephyr might move too rashly — or the low plain- 
tive wail of a dove seem too loud — do not mothers wake 
their children just to know the hush is only the stillness 
of renewing life! But the slavery is as the star's devotion 
to its orbit; as the lark's descent from mid air to its brood 
in the nest; as the angel's pauseless service; or the respon- 
sive chord in the throat, when the soul is gay. 

Runs the old English song — "Love makes labor light." 
To love is to lift; but to lift when love reigns, is to know 
no lifting! 

"Jog on, jog on in the footpath way. 

And merrily hent the stile-a; 
A merry heart goes all the day. 
Your sad tires in a mile-a." 
And the Bible tells of "An Everlasting Love.'* 



3Raci)eI e? 



/ ?nay not tell — / can not — O my own; 

How my heart shrines you in its holy place 
As my Madonna, in fair regal grace — 

My altar where I bow in worship prone — 
My soul a Kingdom is, where you alone 

Benignly reign o*er all; till space 
Be found for no sweet vision save your face; 

Thou the one occupant of my life's throne; 
There in my soul's Shekinah, all alone 

Forever rulest thou, while fall 
Magic of morn, moon's glory, midnight's moan. 

As ever I, thy loving slave, list to thy call; 
O could my love for you, by me, be shewn. 

Purple would robe thee, O thou Queen of all. 



68 Jfor !aj»e 



^^ND love that in the higher love endures, remains 

\^J for aye the same. It is the Pole Star in life's sky 

by night, and it is the light-creating Sun in that 

same sky by day; and they who thus love, be they men or 

women; parents and children; Davids and Jonathans; 

why, they are beyond the jars of all alienating strife. 

*'Nor the seas change us, nor the tempests bend, 

Our hands would touch for all the mountain bars. 
And heaven being rolled between us, at the end 
We should hut vow the faster for the stars" 
And when human affection is at its highest, it is a love 
which lies enshrined in the Divine love; and thus in- 
heres in the very life of the soul itself. 
"When I sue 

God for myself. He hears that name of thine. 
And sees within my eyes the tears of two'* 



^t ^unsJet 



O the sun is low. 

As together they walk 

'Neath the old elm trees; 

And the evening breeze 
Hears their loving talk, 

As the sun is low, 

O the sun is low. 

And together they walk 
Where the old elm waves; 
They are nearing their graves. 

But still lovingly talk. 
As the sun is low. 

O the sun is low. 

As the mourners walk 

To the old elms' shade. 

Where two graves are made. 
Let no one talk! 

For the sun is low. 



70 Cternitp in tfje ileart 



^f£ONCE saw a letter which was taken from the pocket 
^1 of a man who had been killed in a train wreck, and 
^Cj who was never identified. But as I copied it, I 
thought it strangely, solemnly suggestive. And it so seems 
as I here write it down. 
''My Dearest: 

I love you with my whole heart and mind and soul. 
You are my earth and my heaven. You are my whole 
existence. I often feel that I disappoint you by my 
wordlessness, for it is impossible for me to express what 
is in my heart for you; but while I may lack expression, 
I do not lack feeling. Sometimes I wonder if I will be 
able to> bear it, I so ache with love for you. 

Think of me to-night my dear, and know that I am 
thinking of you, and praying for you too — -for your success 
and happiness. 

From the one who loves you, and whom you call — 

"MmEr 

Blood-Spattered was the page on which these words 
were written. And he to whom they were sent was no 
more. Was no more! I wonder? Was there in him 
nothing to distinguish his taking off, from the falling in the 
shambles of a suddenly pole-axed oxf Some thus believe, 
but so will not I. For how could all that which existed in 
him; all that which in some mysterious way must have 
fathered the love which was mothered by her ; how could 
all that die as the man in the darkness was crushed by 
brutal blind force? And is there left in the Universe no 
trace of the affection which by its sincerity and massiveness 
evoked that exquisite love idyl? Did all of that woman s 
earth, and heaven, and existence; the heart and its love, 
and passionate pain; its thought and its prayer; did it 
all go to naught in that tragical hour when a car left 
the rails? And could mere matter thus annihilate the 
fond love, and earnest prayer, and exultation of proud 
possession expressed in that word "Mine" ; and could it 
run out into blind Chaos and an unbrooding eternal night, 
starless and daivnless? Then does gray gloaming fall 
on all the tired hearts of Humanity. 



abiojs 71 



When to me the ocean s surge is dumb. 
And beclouded the star-lit skies; 

And ye to the final rites are come, 
Read ye this with your tearless eyes: 

Let no man praise me; let none deride; 

For I to my God shall have sped. 
Who alone will know — no one beside — 

What crown shall encircle my head; 

If halo of joy, or thorn of woe; 

Boon, or bane; the bloom, or the blight; 
Be it yours, O friend, or foe, to know, 

I fought on the side I thought right; 

I fought out my fight, and lived my life, 
And weathered my voyage rough; 

Nor ever feared the onrushing strife. 
Nor cried to a foeman, "Enough** ; 

Nor e'er whined that winds in menace blew, 
Never whimpered in shrieking blast; 

But I played my part as best I knew 
Were the skies sunfilled, or overcast; 

Wishing no mans hurt, of none afraid. 
Head erect in the whole world's sight; 

Winning or losing, I drew my blade 
In defense of that I thought right. 



